


Watch.

by SuggestiveScribe



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, body worship probably, help me, sweaters and thigh highs, there's a mirror involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuggestiveScribe/pseuds/SuggestiveScribe
Summary: "You have pretty legs, Yuuri."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my Mitten Squad, who beta, enable, and inspire.

 

 

Yuuri staggered down the hallway, feet clumsily thumping against the tatami. He knocked his glasses up his face as he attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes, and the world became all the more hazy for it.

"Viktor?" he called out vaguely, voice barely reaching past the hallway. "Mom?"

When he entered the living area there was a note on the table and a key placed atop it. Yuuri readjusted the balance of his glasses and bent down to peer at it.

"I went out for the day but I know you wanted to practice," he read aloud as he squinted at the loopy handwriting. "Here are the keys to the studio. Minako." Yuuri picked the keys off the table, watching with disjointed interest as they jingled from his fingertips. He glanced around the room.

It was generally quiet, with far-off noises indicating movements of guests or employees. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders before turning back toward his room, "Might as well."

He tapped against his phone to check his weather app, which promptly informed him that, yes, it was still cold. Yuuri discarded his pajama pants and shirt and traded them for stirrup tights and an overlarge sweater. The studio would probably be chilly first thing in the morning, but movement was always essential. Yuuri pulled thick thigh-high socks over the tights before checking his phone one last time and moving back out to the living room.

He didn't recall Viktor saying anything about practice, but paranoia was still knocking at the back of his skull. He was usually here in the morning, enjoying warm tea or coffee with Makkachin resting in his lap.

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri turned toward his mom's voice as he pulled his coat from the closet. "Oh, mom," he greeted. "Good morning. Have you seen Viktor?"

Today's sun would be no match for the smile on her face, "Yes! He and Makkachin went out for a walk early this morning! I think he might have mentioned getting some breakfast."

"Oh, okay," Yuuri said, moving to button his coat over his sweater. "When he gets back you can tell him I went to Minako's for practice."

"So you saw her note," she said, hands clasped together. "That's good. But aren't you still too tired? You look sleepy."

"Hm? No, I'm fine."

"Just wait right there," his mom directed, not hesitating for even a second before flying off to the kitchen.

"Mo--" Yuuri sighed. It was no use; he already knew that. Yuuri reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew his beanie, pulling it protectively over his ears. By the time he was tilting his head to look past the doorway his mom was already returning, chrome thermos in hand.

"I just made fresh coffee," she beamed, thrusting it forward. "Please have some on your way to Minako's."

Yuuri's lips curled into a fond smile, "Thank you." His mom simply nodded, currently full of all the energy he didn't have. "I'll be back," he hailed at the door.

"Take care!" she called after him.

The tops of Yuuri's thighs were a bit chilly, but the rest of him was cozy in his bundle of fabric. The coffee was warm and steamed pleasantly against his face when he opened the lid. With the help of the caffeine and the rush of brisk air flushing his lungs Yuuri was able to fight off his lingering drowsiness before reaching the studio.  

His hands shook a little as he keyed open the lock, but the door gave way easily enough.

The studio was cold and unlit, clearly reserved for his personal use. He punched on the lights and set the thermostat to something bearable, rubbing his palms together to stimulate warmth. With some reluctance he set down his coffee and began to stretch, thighs aching against the cold bite of the hardwood. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for the thick sweater and stockings; even though the heater was audible in the background, he couldn’t yet feel the effects of it in the air. He reached to the side, grabbing up his coffee and bringing it to his mouth just as he was swinging his legs forward to bend into a toe touch. But his movements were creaky, limbs jerking like the joints were still frozen, and when he brought his feet together it was with a hard crack of his ankle bones jolting against one another. He yelped, starting in place, and dropped the coffee right into his lap.

_Shit._

He heard the liquid gurgle as he fumbled with the cup, hands flailing before forcing it upright, and then bounced to his feet.

_Towels, towels…_

He quickly padded out of the main studio and grabbed one from the cabinet, returning in a flash to sop up his mistake. It was as he was bent over and wiping up the spill that he became particularly aware of the sticky warmth at his thighs. He sighed even before looking down, knowing exactly what he’d see.

He pursed his lips. _Yep_.

The tights were soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He massaged his temples. Soon the liquid would cool completely and he’d be cold _and_ wet; a prospect he wasn’t a fan of. He grumbled at himself as he stripped off his stockings, peeling off the coffee stained tights soon after. It was just him here anyway; it shouldn’t matter what he was wearing. He pulled the thigh highs back on in an effort to keep his legs warm even in the chill of the studio. Once he started dancing he wouldn’t even notice, probably.

Save for that slight breeze when he jumped.

He went back to his program-- a short routine that his body had memorized-- and he soon lost himself in the familiar steps. He didn’t know how long he practiced; like this, he could go for hours without noticing a minute had gone by.

At some point there was a knock at the door. Yuuri spun on his toe, pirouette wobbling toward the end as he came to a halt.

"It's open," he called as he extended his arms, fingers pointing forward with a practiced grace.

"Morning!" Viktor called as he stepped through the door, a paper sack and coffee held in the bundle of his left arm. "Sorry I wasn't there this morning." He shuffled around to kick off his shoes and nudge the door shut behind him.

"It's fine," Yuuri responded in a distant voice. His eyes were trained on his own image in the mirror. He watched the lift of his left leg and arm in unison, doing his best to keep them poised and straight.

"I brought back breakfast if you want..." Viktor's words trailed off, voice falling hush, "some..."

Yuuri completed one more slow spin before blinking his attention over to Viktor. He was standing with his mouth agape and eyes riveted, his coffee looking just about ready to slip from his hold.

"Something wrong?" Yuuri asked.

Viktor shifted his head to the side, almost like he needed to see Yuuri from another angle to make sure he was real. "No," he answered in a tone so strangely innocent it forced Yuuri to furrow his brow. Before he could say anything Viktor was placing his coffee and bag on the floor, eyes never moving from their focus on Yuuri. "You didn't come here like that, did you?" he sounded concerned, but the way his eyes burned against Yuuri's flesh gave him a different feeling entirely. Viktor shrugged his coat from his shoulders and let it fall into a puddle on the floor.

"Oh," Yuuri jerked a little in place, suddenly aware of his clothing. "N-No," he answered, feet fidgeting against the hardwood. His toes curled in embarrassment, "I was wearing tights, but I spilled coffee on them."

"I see," Viktor responded, closing the gap between them. "Good." He stepped right behind Yuuri, letting his eyes fall so they could then rake up the length of Yuuri's legs and over the bared flesh of his shoulder. "I wouldn't want you to catch a cold." His voice was lower now, breathy, and the feel of it against his neck made Yuuri swallow down a shiver.

"I hung them to dry in the bathroom," Yuuri rambled, eyes flitting away from the heaviness of Viktor's gaze. "So hopefully they'll be fine by the time I head home..."

Yuuri’s shoulder blade was warm where it was pressed into Viktor’s chest. It made the rest of his back feel decisively chill, and it was difficult not to slide further into the warmth of Viktor.

Fingers trailed over the heavy knit of the sweater, moving with slow appreciation when they reached the contour of Yuuri's hip, "You have pretty legs, Yuuri."

Yuuri's face flashed hot, "W-What?"

Viktor's fingers continued sliding downward, breaching the edge of the fabric and grazing over the exposed flesh of Yuuri's upper thigh. The sensation of his fingers was both light and searing. His next words were thoughtful as he dragged the pad of his thumb across Yuuri's thigh, "The Japanese have a word for this don't they?" He tipped his head to watch the movement of his fingers, "The skin that shows above stockings."

Yuuri's exhale was half chuckle and half exasperation. His eyes fluttered closed, "Your selective knowledge of Japanese culture troubles me."

"What's it called?" Viktor asked, ignoring Yuuri as his thumb teased at the flesh of Yuuri's inner thigh.

Yuuri swallowed. "Absolute Territory," he answered.

"Absolute Territory," Viktor repeated, the tips of his fingers nudging at the top edge of Yuuri's stockings.

"Although it's usually used to talk about girls in skirts..." Yuuri opened his eyes as his head began to tip backward.

Viktor slid one finger beneath the elastic of the stocking, running his touch all the way back to Yuuri's outer thigh. "That just means a lot of men are missing opportunities," Viktor told him.

"Ah," Yuuri responded noncommittally, most of his attention being used to repress the shiver climbing up his spine.

Viktor’s hand decided to venture upward then, sneaking under the cover of the sweater. It wasn't until he reached the curve of Yuuri's buttocks that he went still again, his breath going silent.

"Yuuri," he said.

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, "Yes?"

The prudent part of Viktor's mouth was audible next to Yuuri's ear, "You're not wearing..."

"Oh!" Yuuri looked down at Viktor's hand. "I am," he countered. "I'm wearing a dancer's belt."

Viktor's hand slid up more quickly then, as if in a hurry to confirm Yuuri's words. He was found correct, of course; the strip of fabric above Yuuri's hips was there as expected, descending down to hold the front of him in place while his cheeks were left definitively... open.

There was a moment of silence in which Yuuri was flushed red but unable to speak, and Viktor's expression was hidden in the crook of Yuuri's neck.

Viktor moved then, shifting to the other side of Yuuri and gently tapping at his left leg, "Can you extend this for me."

It wasn't a question, but Yuuri didn't really need it to be. He lifted his leg without pause or hesitation, hitting a perfect ninety degree angle before blinking at Viktor for instruction. Viktor's hands were already moving, taking hold of the leg and slowly coercing it higher. Yuuri didn't resist, only shifted his weight to account for the angle that grew more obtuse by the moment.

Viktor's eyes were riveted to the tendon that flexed above his stockings and connected at his groin. The sweater drooped from Yuuri's body, hanging loosely off one shoulder and completely baring his hips and legs as Viktor stretched him into a full split.

Yuuri knew he shouldn't look in the mirror. He knew that and yet he did it anyway, too curious to see Viktor's face to keep himself from it. Of course what caught his attention first was himself; he was standing in what he had to admit was a gorgeous split, legs perfect and toes instinctively pointed. But he was also in a perfect split wearing what could best be described as long socks and a tenacious thong.

Yuuri swallowed down the embarrassment that reflexively bubbled up his throat. His eyes slid over to Viktor's reflection, his face open and unguarded in the mirror.

He gently touched at the tendon in Yuuri's lifted leg. His eyes encompassed the extended muscles and pale skin with attention that seemed almost mesmerized. He was looking at Yuuri like he was a sculpture rather than a person, appreciation so plain on his face that it made Yuuri's heart swell in his chest.

"This is beautiful," Viktor said, running his fingers over the bare skin. Yuuri wasn't able to repress his shiver that time; he shook in Viktor's hold, turning his eyes away from their reflection as well as the man beside him.

Viktor took a few steps closer to Yuuri's face, his grip still carefully holding Yuuri's leg in place. "You have a beautiful body," Viktor went on, stooping a little lower so he could breathe next to Yuuri's neck.

"Viktor," Yuuri was flushed red and burning, "what are you going on about..."

"You have to know I feel that way," Viktor said, using his free hand to push under Yuuri's sweater and slide sensation over his abs. He was watching their figures in the mirror, blue eyes sharp and focused. "After all this time."

Yuuri's gaze slid away. He wanted to lean into him, sag into him, let all the breath leave his lungs as he bathed in that touch. His response was a distant, "Yes, but..."

"Don't you think I'm beautiful?"

Yuuri shifted his attention back to Viktor's face in the mirror. It was a placid look, surprisingly neutral for a face that was usually beaming in happiness or twisting in thought. The fingers of Viktor’s right hand were mindlessly drawing circles over Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri shifted his shoulders, "Everyone thinks you're beautiful."

Viktor frowned at that, " _Yuu_ ri." His hold was still firm on Yuuri’s leg, but with every passing moment he was growing closer to matching the angle of Yuuri’s upper body. His eyes narrowed on Yuuri's face, "You're so honest with your body and your art; I wish you would do the same with your mouth."

Yuuri flinched, "Eh?"

"Who taught you to be this way?" Viktor asked seemingly no one, his gaze flitting through the space above Yuuri’s head. "Who taught you to seal your truest and most honest thoughts in your head?"

Yuuri could feel the downward drag of his mouth.

 _The world_.

Yuuri looked at Viktor, eyes hard enough to garner his attention, "You're beautiful." He swallowed, "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Viktor bent forward at the hips to peer into Yuuri’s face. He stood next to Yuuri’s planted foot, but with this new pose both their upper bodies were almost parallel to the floor, their lips parallel to each other. "I didn't tell you to flatter me, _Yuu_ ri."

"No," Yuuri responded, tone unforgiving. "But you did tell me to give you my most honest truth."

The corner of Viktor's mouth quirked upward, and his eyes resounded with something dark and bright in the same moment. He closed the distance between their faces, taking Yuuri's mouth in a soft kiss even as the grip he had on Yuuri's thigh tightened.

Viktor's kisses always stole his breath. Sometimes it rushed from his chest, other times it simply evaporated, his insides aching like he could only breathe if the air came from Viktor's lips. Yuuri was pliable under Viktor's tongue, opening his mouth when it ran over his lower lip, teasing back when it teased him. Viktor kissed to feel and to taste, something as delicate as it was primal.

Viktor's free hand was still roaming under Yuuri's sweater. It glided down Yuuri's side before reaching the bunched muscle of his hip, then ventured back upward. His fingers investigated the seams of taut muscles, slipping upward until he reached Yuuri's chest. Yuuri's breath was catching even before Viktor did anything; he knew Viktor's fingers, knew how he used the feather-light touch to tantalize. He grazed over Yuuri's nipple, shocking him with the perfect lack of sensation.

Yuuri hummed into Viktor's mouth, a plea. He felt Viktor smile against his lips.

On the next pass Viktor added a little more friction, dragging the pad of his thumb over the sensitive perk of flesh. Yuuri leaned forward, catching Viktor's lower lip between his teeth. Viktor chuckled, a sound that rose from the deepest part of his chest, and pinched Yuuri's nipple between his fingers.

Yuuri released Viktor's lip when he gasped, and he flushed hot and hard under the cover of his dancer's belt.

"I love that you love that," Viktor purred against his jaw, eyes heavy and half lidded. Yuuri's head tipped back, bared the stretch of his throat. Viktor's hand ventured downward again, not stopping until his fingertips were teasing the waistband of Yuuri's dancer's belt. "I want to know everything you love," he whispered.

He dragged his palm over the fabric of the dancer's belt, warm sensation fizzling outward from his touch. Viktor tilted his head, looking past Yuuri's shoulder to track his own motions.

"Hm?" Viktor hummed, a note of innocence to his voice. "I wonder..." He pushed the fabric of the dancer's belt aside, revealing Yuuri's hardening length. Viktor's smile went dangerous in the mirror.

Yuuri gasped, but he could feel himself flushing warmer the moment Viktor's fingers slipped around him. "I love this," Viktor informed him, stroking over the still-malleable member.

Yuuri's extended leg reflexively bent at the knee, folding over the clasp of Viktor's hand as his toes curled and a shiver crawled across his skin.  

"You held that extension so nicely..." Viktor complimented in a low voice, the weight of his palm still keeping Yuuri's thighs spread into a split. His hand worked over Yuuri's length, coaxing it to full hardness with every sweep of his hand. "Look, _Yuu_ ri." Yuuri barely managed to pull his attention back to Viktor's face. But when he got there Viktor just inclined his head forward.

Yuuri looked across the room and then shuddered, the full image of his spread legs and Viktor working his palm over his cock reflected back at him.

" _God_ ," Yuuri breathed, closing his eyes.

"I know," Viktor responded simply, still dragging sensation through Yuuri's length. “Gorgeous.”

Yuuri's eyelashes fluttered as he opened them, gaze coming back to the mirrors and the steady stroke of Viktor's hand. He watched himself grow, his cock flushing dark and tightening, the girth of him forcing Viktor's hand to loosen for his size. With every pump of those slender fingers over his shaft Yuuri was more mesmerized. The stretch of his legs grew more uncomfortable as he attempted to repress tremors, but Viktor didn't let up until he saw the first drop of precum slip from Yuuri's slit.

"Do you like it?" Yuuri almost jumped at the sound of Viktor's voice. He had been so caught up in the motions of his hand that he hadn't looked at his eyes; they were dark, shadowed with silver lashes and locked onto Yuuri's expression in the mirror. "Watching," he clarified, syllables smoky.

Yuuri exhaled, "I..."

Viktor straightened, steadily loosing his hold on Yuuri's leg as he did so. He helped him lower it, sure to keep him steady, and then stared at their new position in the mirror.

Yuuri's glasses were slightly askew on his face, his sweater sagging completely off one shoulder and catching a bit at one of his hips. It made that side of the sweater hike up higher over his thighs, baring just a little extra milky white beneath wool.

Viktor lowered his mouth to the exposed nape of Yuuri's neck and breathed his words there, "Will you walk up to the mirror for me?"

Yuuri’s first step forward was a little unsteady; after holding a split for so long he felt a wobble attempting to seize his legs. But he approached the mirror anyway, not stopping until he could reach forward and rest his hands on the ballet bar.

There was a presence at his back almost immediately, and Viktor placed his hands lightly on Yuuri's hips. Without words he pulled him a touch backwards-- just a step or two-- and then stopped.

" _Yuu_ ri," he said as he pressed against the middle of Yuuri's spine. Yuuri instinctively bent at the hips, leaning against the ballet bar so his body was at a ninety degree angle, legs slightly spread. Viktor sunk down to one knee, hands gliding over his hip and down his thigh. His gaze shot up to meet Yuuri's in the mirror, "Will you let me kiss you?"

Before the confusion could fully write itself across Yuuri's features Viktor leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss to the exposed thigh above Yuuri's stocking. He sighed his understanding. "Yes," he tried, his answer fainter than he would have liked.

The delicate kiss was immediately followed by a less delicate one, Viktor's mouth opening just enough to suck against Yuuri's flesh. A noise vibrated at the back of Yuuri's throat, but it wasn't until Viktor squeezed his teeth against the skin that a moan escaped, echoing off the walls and against the mirror.

Viktor's finger hooked into the elastic of the stocking, peeling it down just a few centimeters. He pressed a kiss on the newly exposed flesh, and Yuuri couldn't help but shiver at the heightened sensation.

Viktor kissed up the line of his leg, right in that seam of muscle reaching toward his hip. "I like this," he mumbled against Yuuri's skin, lips tumbling over Yuuri's leg like he couldn't kiss it enough.

Yuuri's eyelashes fluttered, "The stockings or my legs?"

"Yes," Viktor answered, his palms pushing up the sweater so he could bite at the skin of Yuuri's hip.

His thumb was gently kneading at Yuuri's hip as his mouth moved on, smattering kisses over Yuuri's hipbone before arcing back to nip at the plush right at the top of Yuuri's buttocks.

Yuuri made a faint sound, something like a startled whine, and his hands gripped tighter around the ballet bar.

"You always did like things a bit rougher than I expected." Yuuri opened his eyes, looking at Viktor's kneeling form in the mirror. He bit at Yuuri's cheek again, this time punctuating it with a small suck. Yuuri heaved a breath, eyes immediately falling closed. "I've learned to not have expectations for what you'll do..." his breath was tickling over Yuuri as he moved, and for a moment he was still, hot exhales falling between Yuuri's cheeks. Yuuri felt fissures of anticipation crawling down his thighs. "You surprise me always." Then he moved on, bringing his lips to the next cheek. He bit at the bottom curve of it, making Yuuri's hips jump.

"T-That's my goal," Yuuri almost laughed in all his nervousness. His mind was emptying of rational thought and discourse; instead he was left with looping desires and constraints. He wanted to reach back and grab Viktor's hair, dragging his mouth between his cheeks and pressing against him. He wanted to come undone around Viktor's tongue, or over it, quaking until he collapsed on the floor. But some mixture of etiquette and embarrassment kept him gripping the ballet bar, eyes tilted down and bangs falling over his face.

Viktor's lips were currently investigating Yuuri's inner thigh, teasing little nibbles pulling at the flesh and sending goosebumps rippling out in their wake. Then he began sucking, and all the tension in Yuuri's thighs fled to that one spot.

"A- _Ah, Viktor_..." Yuuri's back bowed, and he felt his cock straining against the fabric of his dancer's belt. Slick drops of precum were pressed against his stomach, the warm lubrication almost tickling against his cockhead when he shifted.

Viktor released Yuuri from the pinch of his teeth, "That's not fair, _Yuu_ ri."

Yuuri managed to open his eyes, vision blurring in and out before he could rein in his focus on Viktor's face. He was staring at Yuuri in the reflection of the mirror, peering around his hip with a gaze half hidden behind a curtain of hair. The visible portion was more than enough; his eyes were heavy lidded and his irises were _dark_ , a blue more stormy than Yuuri had ever seen them.

"When you make noises like that..." Viktor's hands slid up Yuuri's legs, and for the first time Yuuri noticed the blooming purple bruise on his inner thigh. Seeing the mark under the press of Viktor's fingers made his cock throb, his spine going weak under the weight of that visual and that stare. Viktor started pulling at Yuuri's belt, tugging at the elastic. His lips curved upward, but it was the smile of a carnivore, "I get too excited."

He took hold of a strip of fabric-- the strip of fabric that fit snuggly between Yuuri's cheeks-- and dragged it upward.

The friction against Yuuri's rim made him shudder, breath blowing from his lungs and shoulders slumping. It also shocked sensation through his cock, the head of which was now protruding over his dancer's belt and glistening in the reflection of the mirror.

"Is that no good?" Viktor asked. The feigned innocence in his voice was enough to make Yuuri's eyes narrow into a glare. He kept the fabric firm against Yuuri with one hand while the other reached forward and skimmed over the strip with taunting fingertips.

Yuuri coughed out a startled moan. Viktor's stifled touch through fabric was still heavy enough to make his entrance flinch in response.

"Hmm," came Viktor's thoughtful response. "Maybe there's still too much in the way..."

This time when he started pulling the dancer's belt down it was with true initiative. He dragged it over Yuuri's hips and freed his cock, which bobbed forward in the reflection of the mirror. Viktor watched the motion, paying no mind to the undergarment he dropped to Yuuri's feet. He licked his lips.

"That's better," he whispered. Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to regain any small bit of composure he had left. Viktor was squaring himself behind Yuuri, thumbs pushing and gently kneading at the bottom curve of his cheeks.

When he spoke his breath was humid, trickling over the sensitive flesh at Yuuri's entrance. "Yuuri."

Yuuri swallowed. He didn't have to see Viktor to know there was still a storm in his eyes. He could hear the rumble of thunder in his voice.

"Will you let me kiss you?"

Yuuri's response wasn't so much a word as it was gusting breath, a sound that was almost yielding but closer to relieved. It was filled with anxious indulgence, and it shook from his lungs, " _Yes_."

The spread of Yuuri's cheeks was done so gently that it went unnoticed. Especially in the wake of Viktor's mouth, blazing hot and damp, meeting at the puckered flesh of Yuuri's entrance. The gasp was automatic, as was the way Yuuri's eyes shot open, and the greedy surge of his cock.

Viktor moved on from the initial kiss quickly, dragging his tongue over Yuuri's entrance with wide and wet strokes. He repeated the motion just enough, lingered over the same stretch of flesh just enough, that Yuuri's heart began to ease back into rhythm. He felt the tingling edge of pleasure instead of a pang of it, but neither Viktor nor him found a lot of worth in contentment.

Viktor pressed a little harder, circling the rim with the tip of his tongue. He flicked at the puckered skin once, twice, and just as Yuuri was expecting another teasing lick Viktor took tight hold of his hips and thrust his tongue into him.

Yuuri groaned at the intrusion, so wet and malleable it was gentle even as it was forceful. It parted him easily, coaxing him open with slick warmth. Yuuri leaned back into the touch, pressed himself more firmly against Viktor's mouth. Viktor purred and the vibrations sprung right up Yuuri's spine, taking hold of every vertebra on their way up.

Viktor withdrew his tongue and Yuuri whined. The noise was too honest but Yuuri couldn't care; he was both too focused and too unfocused to waste time on tertiary emotions.

" _Good_ ," Viktor whispered against his skin, bringing his tongue over Yuuri's entrance in consoling strokes once more.

" _Viktor..._ " Yuuri wasn't sure if it was a plea or a chide. It didn't matter; Viktor always had his own agenda.

He nudged at the rim again, slick prodding that made Yuuri open up unconsciously. Then he sucked at the hole, pressure and friction and vibrations rocketing from the tips of Yuuri's fingers and toes right to his rim.

He groaned, loud and rough, and one of the hands he had curled around the ballet bar reached out to stick to the mirror. Clammy hands smeared fingerprints in their wake, bracing against the wall as he shoved himself back against Viktor's face.

Viktor chuckled against him before sucking again, and Yuuri felt precum slide down the length of his shaft. Yuuri's eyes stuttered open, vision unreliable as Viktor dove his tongue back into the heat of Yuuri's body.

Yuuri was moaning, noise after noise tumbling from his throat. He could stroke over himself and come right now-- spill all over the floor, clench against the press of Viktor's mouth. Yuuri looked at himself, legs spread and cock bobbing out from under the protection of his sweater. The tops of his exposed thighs were collecting slick, shining with the excess of Yuuri's excitement. Viktor's form was mostly hidden behind him, knees on the hardwood, hands around Yuuri's hips.

Yuuri blinked once at him. He decided.

Viktor's right hand shifted sideways, and there was a soft touch of a finger just below Yuuri's rim.

Yuuri threw a glance over his shoulder, voice gone firm and chastising, "Viktor..."

Viktor tilted his head to send a glance up at Yuuri. Silver bangs stuck to silver eyelashes, and the storm around his pupils grew darker.

Yuuri swallowed his appreciation so he could maintain his dubious stare, "Please don't tell me you've started this with no way to finish it."

It took a heartbeat for understanding to flood Viktor's gaze. Even if Yuuri hadn't been able to feel the smile against his skin, he would have been able to see it in Viktor's eyes.

"Of course," Viktor said, lifting himself out of his crouch and into a standing position. He took a step away from Yuuri and then spared a quick second glance, "Don't move."

Yuuri frowned at him.

Viktor moved a few paces to the side to rifle through his bag, eventually withdrawing a small bottle and a condom. Yuuri pressed his forehead to the ballet bar, "I don't even want to know why you have travel size lube at the ready."

Viktor dipped into his field of vision, shaking the bottle in the mirror and beaming, "Look, it's in Japanese."

"And?"

"And," Viktor said, leaning down and tucking the condom into the elastic of Yuuri’s thigh high, "I bought it here." He kissed at the lobe of Yuuri's ear and whispered, "I didn't have a need for travel size lube before you came along, _Yuu_ ri."

Yuuri snatched his gaze away, compulsively hiding the red flooding over his cheeks even though Viktor could still see him in the mirror. "Just hurry up," he mumbled, unclasping from the ballet bar with one hand so he could pull his glasses from his face and hang them on the neck of his sweater.

The split of Viktor's grin was audible. But he obeyed, retreating back behind Yuuri and flicking open the cap of the lube. The first touch against Yuuri was cold, forcing his shoulders to stiffen. After a few more slow strokes and seconds it warmed, and the tension had just fully unwound when Viktor pressed his touch past Yuuri's rim.

There was a flinching moment of hesitation like there always was, and as that gripped Yuuri tighter and ran through his system Viktor waited. It ebbed away quickly, timed with Yuuri's exhales. Yuuri didn't have to say anything; Viktor knew somehow, every time, by posture or breathing or the grip around his finger. It didn't matter because Yuuri didn't care; he just cared that Viktor was somehow always in tune with him, always in perfect stride, and it allowed trust to weigh relaxation into his limbs.

When Viktor began moving his finger again Yuuri found his palm pressed against the mirror once more. It was a screaming sensation, something that took all of him all at once. It wasn’t pain; it was something more akin to shock and desperation fissuring out just beneath his skin. His vision was bleached, heart pounding, and he could feel himself immediately opening up for more. He was greedy for the stretch, for the drag of sensation, and one finger was just enough to make his body shudder at the pressure and demand more all at once.

“Viktor.” The word was rough, just as rough as Yuuri’s gaze was sharp.

“My,” Viktor commented, pleasure in his voice. “Someone has no patience today.”

_Are you unaware how long you’ve been torturing me?_

“Okay,” Viktor responded to the beat of silence, “Whatever my Yuuri wants.” A second finger touched at the rim, teasing. Yuuri’s body opened up for it, ready and anxious and _desperate._ The next time Viktor eased out he came back with two, forcing Yuuri wider with the slide of his touch.

Yuuri bent forward as he groaned, forehead bumping against the mirror. The prickling heat around his rim crawled outward, lighting up his veins and forcing his heart into a heavy thud in his chest. His legs were soon trembling, made weak with pressure but strong with energy.

“ _Mm_ ,” Viktor’s voice rumbled from his throat, “so warm.”

He moved patiently. Yuuri could see Viktor’s eyes in the reflection, watching him. The push and tug of resistance against his rim was draining Yuuri of all his composure. Precum spilled from his slit and began to dribble down his thighs, a few drops shivering off his body and landing in sticky patterns on the floor.

“ _Viktor_ ,” he wheezed.

Viktor moved slowly, stretching his two fingers just a bit within Yuuri’s body. Air flooded sharply into Yuuri’s lungs, and he gripped the ballet bar with all his strength in lieu of reaching down and jerking himself into a quick and messy climax.

“Viktor!” Viktor startled at the forcefulness of Yuuri’s voice, his eyes wide in the mirror. Yuuri stared at him, unyielding, “Take off your clothes and sit down.”

Yuuri loved it when Viktor’s cheeks burned a little. He attempted to blink the surprise off his face, gingerly closing his fingers and pulling them away from Yuuri’s body.

Yuuri groaned, both at the sensation and the loss, but he was fully recovered by the time Viktor was unclasping his belt and kicking his pants from his legs. Yuuri walked over to him as he began pulling at the elastic of his boxers, then grabbed the waistband himself and shoved them quickly to the floor.

There was the surprised face again. Yuuri ignored it, shoving at Viktor’s chest. “Down,” he repeated.

Viktor lowered himself to the floor immediately, looking up at Yuuri like he couldn’t form a single thought or response on his own. Yuuri sank down to his knees, gently taking Viktor’s jaw in his hand. He turned Viktor’s head sharply to the side with the force of his hand, making heavy eye contact with him in the mirror.

“Watch,” he directed.

Yuuri was moving on before he could take note of Viktor’s face. He shifted backward, the fabric of his thigh highs making sliding on the floor easy, and then brought his mouth a whisper away from Viktor’s cock. He looked in the mirror to make certain Viktor was still watching, and then licked up the length of his shaft while maintaining eye contact.

Viktor’s chest jumped as he inhaled, and when Yuuri swirled his tongue around the head he could taste the saltiness of precum. He tipped his gaze downward and closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch while he was taking Viktor into the back of this throat.

Viktor’s attempt at reining in his moan was Yuuri’s favorite; he went breathy and shuddered, small noises still shaking from his chest and thighs trembling under the weight of Yuuri’s hands. Yuuri took him back until he couldn’t anymore, then dragged himself upward with the slightest play of teeth at Viktor’s head.

“ _Christ_ ,” Viktor breathed. Yuuri executed another quick swish of his tongue around the tip and tried not to smile.

He dipped forward again, deeper, determined to give Viktor the best visual in the mirror he could offer. When Yuuri pulled he felt his lips quirk into a knowing smile.  Viktor was still staring at him in the mirror, transfixed, and it appeared to take him a moment before he realized he could turn his attention to the visual in front of him. Yuuri moved to hover over Viktor’s lap, withdrawing the condom that was still safely tucked into his stocking. He tore the corner off, revelling in Viktor’s silent stare as he unrolled it over the flushed red of his length.

He remained that way even as Yuuri liberally poured lube over his cock. When he crawled back into Viktor’s lap he took hold of Viktor’s length, guiding it to touch cool and slick against his entrance.  He leaned forward to bring their faces close, taking one steady inhale from Viktor’s neck. He brought his lips to Viktor’s ear, breaths soft and delicate, as his hand returned to grip his jaw. “Watch,” he whispered again, turning Viktor’s head back toward the mirror.

Their reflection was a perfectly erotic picture; Yuuri was stationed above Viktor’s lap, thigh highs baring only the most supple flesh of his legs. His sweater was hiked up to reveal the crescent of his ass, his cock curving from under the heavy fabric and forcing itself into view. Viktor’s lips parted.

Yuuri smirked.

He kept his eyes on Viktor in the mirror as he began to lower his weight. He wanted to see Viktor’s face as he pulled Yuuri apart; wanted to see Viktor slowly be pulled apart.

The initial stretch of Yuuri’s rim around Viktor’s cockhead was like an itch. It clung to his skin and echoed in his fingers and toes. It was a begging thing, always asking for more. The burning came with the next few centimeters. But it was good, wet, giving way to the heat of Viktor’s cock. When he had sunken past Viktor’s head he paused, body clinging and adjusting to the girth of Viktor’s shaft. Viktor was running his hands all over Yuuri’s back and hips and legs-- anywhere he could feasibly touch-- the movements comforting but laced with impatience that shook his fingers.

Yuuri leaned forward and nudged at Viktor’s jaw with his mouth, making certain he was facing the mirror. Then he sunk down, and he got to see Viktor’s eyes grow wide as he watched Yuuri’s body slowly engulf his cock.

Centimeters of length slowly disappeared into the curve of Yuuri’s ass, fitting warm and snug between pert cheeks. Viktor’s fingers flinched tighter, his mouth unthinkingly open as Yuuri consumed him.

The pressure was immense. It felt as if Viktor was pushing the air straight from his lungs, somehow occupying a space of Yuuri’s body he once used to breathe. Yuuri attempted to take in oxygen, chest heaving as the pressure bore down on his inner walls and sent ripples through his insides.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor purred against Yuuri’s throat. His kissed him there. Then again. Then a touch higher. Again. Again.

Yuuri felt his spine loosen, his shoulders drop, and the tension in his stomach fizzled into heat in the air. He rocked upward, dragging friction throughout his insides and his entrance. Viktor groaned.

When Yuuri sunk back down it was with the intention of rhythm. He rode him, watched the slack jawed and bleary eyed appreciation in the mirror. He enjoyed watching Viktor’s length slide between his cheeks, especially enjoyed watching it disappear entirely when he bottomed out. The resulting jolt sent tremors out from his very bones.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor said again, touching at Yuuri’s face and burying his face in Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri ran one of his hands up Viktor’s neck, threading his fingers through the hair at the back of his scalp. “Keep watching,” he directed too sweetly.

Viktor’s shoulders shuddered, but he lifted his eyes and met Yuuri’s gaze in the mirror. Then one of his hands ventured into Yuuri’s lap, long fingers searching until they found the base of Yuuri’s cock.

Yuuri immediately gasped. Viktor wrapped his hand around Yuuri’s length-- entirely untouched and all the more wet for it-- and began to stroke over him. Yuuri moaned, head tipping back and eyes falling closed for an overwhelming moment. He felt bliss and need circuiting through every vein and pore in his body. He was brightly lit and viciously hungry, and the web of hot sparks collecting in his thighs made it even worse.

He gyrated his hips, rocking them forward just a bit at the end of his downward thrust. The result was Viktor and him both groaning, voices rough and elongated. It was almost perfect, glancing right against where Yuuri needed it most. He could feel anticipation and pleasure mounting in his chest. His heartbeat felt like a flutter, his cock was pulsing and pouring precum over Viktor’s hand.

Yuuri glanced in the mirror. He felt his pulse spike in his ribcage and his cock. The image of him riding Viktor, dipping and rising repeatedly over that thick length, along with the view of Viktor’s hand stroking over the glistening wet of his cock, was almost too much. Then the feel of it, the sounds of slick hands and members and hoarse breaths, the smell of Viktor’s cologne…

Yuuri felt like the inside of his skull was spinning, careening off balance. He closed his eyes.

“Oh,” Viktor noted in a cloudy whisper, “you’re trying to hit that spot.” Yuuri said nothing. He could feel Viktor adjusting just the slightest beneath him, “Let me help you.”

Viktor rocked his hips in a motion that was practiced-- Yuuri knew because Yuuri was the one he practiced on-- and glanced against Yuuri’s prostate.

Yuuri cried out, his voice leaving his throat before he could think to stop it. His vision was all blistering white; he didn’t even know if his eyes were open or closed.  Vibrations rattled through his limbs like aftershocks.

“You’re so beautiful, Yuuri,” Viktor was whispering near his neck. He jerked his hips and hit the same spot again, perfect and glancing.

“ _God_ ,” Yuuri breathed. “Viktor don’t stop, please don’t stop.” His nails were scrabbling into Viktor’s shoulderblades, raking through flesh.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor breathed the word like it was meant to be a tease, but it came out strained, wanting. He rolled his thumb over Yuuri’s cockhead, smearing through thick beads of precum and drawing sensation up from the base of him. Yuuri felt himself unwinding around Viktor, surging higher, tumbling upward…

Viktor hit against that spot one more time, grazing against the itch that needed scratched, and Yuuri shouted as he came. His body flexed around Viktor’s cock, clenching and unclenching in sporadic waves of pleasure. Cum poured from him, thick and ruthless. It coated his cock and the hand Viktor still had pumping over him.

“ _Ah_ ,” Yuuri wheezed. He began to sag against Viktor, but kept bouncing, riding out those last waves. His rim was still pulsating around Viktor, squeezing so hard it ached before relaxing for a single heartbeat and squeezing again.

“Yuuri, I--”

Yuuri made a small noise against Viktor’s neck, blissed out and needy. Viktor heaved a breath, and the hips he’d been able to keep steady began to stutter. When his hands shot forward to grip tightly at Yuuri’s hips, he knew. Viktor groaned, legs jumping. Yuuri yelped, the motion shocking to his over-sensitive body, and held himself steady as Viktor came within him.

Yuuri tried to relax as Viktor began to wind down. He exhaled deep, allowed the tension within him to uncoil and diffuse into the air. Then when Viktor went very still he pulled away, cringing at the sensation. Once they were detached Yuuri lowered himself to the floor, body laid out across the wood like a very damp, very lifeless, rag.

Viktor laid back against the floor, staring up at the ceiling. There was a long silence.

“So Yuuri, ready to get back to practice?”

Yuuri flung out his arm and smacked Viktor in the chest. He was rewarded with a sparkling laugh, and then a kiss on the head.

 

 

_____________________

  


 

“ _Yuu_ ri,” Viktor said, hands stationed on his hips. “You’re staying too stiff at the end of that jump; It’s messing up your balance.”

“Sorry Viktor,” Yuuri responded, hands on his knees and panting. The ice was bright under the lights, and it reflected upward to illuminate the flush of fatigue over Yuuri’s skin. He straightened his back and wiped at the sweat on his brow. “I’ll do a few more.”

Viktor sighed, “That’s not…”

“You two!”

They both tilted their bodies and attention toward the voice.

“Minako-sensei,” Yuuri said, by way of greeting. “What--”

Minako held up her hand, palm flat. “I don’t care,” she began, “how it happened.” Yuuri’s face fell into a frown, but they both continued listening. She lifted up her other hand to enunciate as she spoke, “I don’t care _what_ happened.” Then she tipped the object in her hand back and forth, and blue liquid sloshed through a clear container. Her eyes and mouth were flat, “I just care that you clean it up.”

Yuuri blinked, “I’m not sure--”

“There is a strangely matted spot on my shining hardwood, Yuuri,” she said, pointing the cleaning solution at him. Yuuri’s back went rigid. Viktor smiled.

“And suspicious smudges on my mirror,” she added brittly.

“I’m so sorry!” Yuuri blustered, skating forward. “I’ll clean it immediately Minako-sensei!” Minako shoved the bottle at Yuuri’s chest the moment he hit the edge of the ice, then shot a look over his shoulder at Viktor.

Viktor beamed at her.

“I’ll be right back!” Yuuri was calling, hurriedly ripping off his skates. He cradled the cleaning solution in his arms, “I’m so sorry, so so sorry.”

Minako narrowed her eyes across the ice at Viktor. “You can get away with whatever you please with that smile, can’t you?”

Viktor gave a small shrug of his shoulders while tipping his head to the side, bangs falling across his forehead, “You tell me.”

There was an extended moment of silent glaring, then a huff, and she turned on her heel and walked out of the building after Yuuri.

Viktor chuckled to himself on the ice.

_Sorry Yuuri._

  


_Kind of._

  
  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have any excuses. 
> 
>  
> 
> <http://suggestivescribe.tumblr.com/>

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Watch.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762887) by [read by lunchee (lunchee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchee/pseuds/read%20by%20lunchee)
  * [Watch. by SuggestiveScribe [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764783) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




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